If only she could persuade her tongue as easily not to want to speak of how she loved him.…
“You are in prime twig yourself, my lord.”
He took her hand and raised it to his lips. Through her lacy gloves, the heat of his mouth warned her that the blaze of desire burned as hotly in his eyes. He curled her fingers over his as he murmured, “I considered wearing my work clothes, for no one shall take note of me once you enter the room.”
“You are going to turn Serenity’s head with such compliments,” cooed Melanda from behind him.
Irritation flickered through Timothy’s eyes, but it was gone as he turned to greet Melanda and Felix. They were, Serenity noted, wearing outfits that matched even more closely than hers and Timothy’s, for the lace at Felix’s cuffs was identical to what hung from Melanda’s fan. As Melanda snapped it open and waved it in a motion that was sure to catch every eye, she smiled broadly.
“I fear,” Timothy said, “that it shall take more than a few words to turn Serenity’s head.”
“And it seems you have found the very way.”
“I have not seen much of you two for the past day,” Timothy continued as if Melanda had not spoken. “When you did not join us for dinner last night, we were about to send out another search party for you. However, we decided panicking again would not be the wisest thing we could do.”
Melanda scowled, then smiled as she slipped her arm through Felix’s and leaned against his shoulder. “Felix and I had special plans yesterday.”
“It is fortunate that those plans allowed you to return in time for Grandfather’s party.” Timothy grinned. “I think tonight’s invitations are closer to a royal command than a request.”
Felix said in a growl, “What else do you expect from Grandfather? He has no intentions of not having everything his way tonight.”
“And why not?” asked Serenity. “He should have everything as he wishes for his seventieth birthday celebration. If I am fortunate to live that long, I intend to be just the same.”
“Is that a warning, sweetheart?” Timothy laughed.
“Just a fact.”
“One that I will keep in mind for the future.”
Serenity’s breath caught. A future? A future together for her and Timothy? Was that possible? She put both hands on his arm, wanting to believe this was real and not just one of the dreams that dared her to believe anything was possible when two hearts were brought together by love.
“First,” Felix said in the same cantankerous voice, “we have to get through this night and all the congratulations and all the silly traditions of Cheyney Park.”
Melanda’s laugh contrasted with Felix’s grim expression. Tapping him on the arm with her fan, she said, “Do not be in a pelter, Felix. Tonight is the culmination of all you and Timothy have planned. You should enjoy every moment of it.”
“I should, shouldn’t I?” Felix took her arm and steered her through the servants gathered at the top of the stairs, waiting for the guests to arrive.
Serenity frowned. “What is upsetting him?”
“Who knows?” Timothy shrugged.
“Do not let him ruin your evening.”
“Felix’s moods will not ruin my evening.” He smiled more sincerely and offered his arm. “The guests will be coming down soon. Shall we take our places?”
Glad to do anything to escape her uneasy thoughts and even more elated to be by his side, she walked with him into the ballroom, which now was decorated with greenery. A huge log was set by the fire pit, ready for its lighting with the arrival of Christmas.
The earl walked into the ballroom, looking as fashionable as his grandsons, and grinning like Theodora, who was carried in by her nurse. Telling them that he would leave the greeting of the guests to Timothy and Serenity, he sat in a far corner of the ballroom with Theodora while the orchestra tuned their instruments and began to play.
As if it were a signal, the guests began to arrive just as the first song was finished. Many of them were already staying at Cheyney Park, but others had arrived during the day from nearby estates. Greeting each one by Timothy’s side, Serenity wondered if she had ever been happier than she was on this Christmas Eve.
She tried to hide her smile as the guests glanced again and again, with dismay and curiosity, across the hall at the tree that was covered with candles and cookies and the long strands of dried fruit. She suspected each of them feared the tree would burst into flames at any moment. Only the children, who were drawn to it as if by magic, and Aunt Ilse seemed delighted with it. Aunt Ilse invited them to sit with her by the tree and sing some song that must be in German, because Serenity could not comprehend any of it. Mayhap it was the one Aunt Ilse had been singing when she and the household’s children had decorated the tree. The children who had arrived in the past day had learned it quickly, with enough giggles to cause heads to turn as their elders made their way to the ballroom.
The peculiar tree was soon forgotten as the dancing began. Serenity smiled when Timothy told her, with a wry grin, that he had promised his aunt the first dance.
“Go ahead,” she urged. “Enjoy it.”
“But—”
“Don’t worry,” Lord Brookindale said as he came to stand beside Serenity. “I will keep watch so that no other young blade comes along and steals her from you upon the strains of the first waltz.”
“I will hold you to that promise, Grandfather,” Timothy said, chuckling. “I trust you will make sure no … shall we say mature blade does the same?”
“Go along with you.” The earl laughed. “You have won Serenity’s heart, and she seems not to be a woman given to à suivie flirtations, offering you her smiles one moment and me the next.”
Serenity smiled. “You are quite mistaken, my lord. If I had chanced to meet you first—”
“Don’t try to betwattle an old man.” He wagged his finger at her. “Off with you, my boy. Your aunt is not a patient woman.” As Timothy bowed and went to offer his arm to his aunt, Lord Brookindale shook his head. “You shall have to forgive the boy. Sometimes he acts as if he is stuck in his ways as an ancient donkey.”
“He wishes to honor his aunt by partnering with her for the first dance.”
“A noble gesture, but I would have tossed tradition aside and danced with the lady who makes my heart dance so fiercely that I cannot hide it from anyone.”
Serenity fluttered her fan to ease the heat climbing her face. Not from embarrassment, but at the thought of Timothy’s heart being filled with love for her as hers was for him. Could it be possible?
She could think of nothing else as she watched the dancers. One man did walk toward her, clearly intending to ask her to dance, but a frown from the earl sent him off in another direction. It was just as well. Serenity was content to sit and listen to Theodora prattle about the ladies’ gowns and to watch Timothy move with the grace of a willow waltzing with a spring wind.
As soon as the dance was complete, Timothy walked over to the orchestra, said something to the conductor, then came to where they were sitting. “I am about to become the most fortunate man in all of England.” He smiled as he picked up Theodora. Whispering in her ear, he laughed when she held her hand out to Serenity.
“And why are you about to become the most fortunate man in all of England?” Serenity asked.
“Because I am asking the two prettiest ladies in England to stand up with me for the next dance.”
“Me, too?” Theodora dimpled.
“Of course.” He lowered his voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “If you don’t mind me dancing with Serenity, too.”
The little girl giggled.
Serenity was not sure if her cheeks could hold her smile. As much as she wanted to be in Timothy’s arms—and she could see from his expression that he wished the same—he was willing to share this evening’s excitement with a little girl who had known so little excitement. She wanted to fling her arms around him and thank him for opening his heart to Theodora, who
clearly adored him. Instead she took Theodora’s hand and ignored the stares as she walked with Timothy out into the center of the floor.
The music for the country reel widened Serenity’s smile even more. The simple steps were perfect for making Theodora feel a part of the pattern. As the other dancers lined up on either side of them, Serenity paid no mind to the whispers as she watched the joy gleam on Theodora’s face as Timothy handed her to Serenity before he bowed to begin the first movement of the dance.
Then, taking Theodora in his arms, he crooked his elbow to Serenity to invite her to slip her hand through it. The effervescent melody swirled around them, but Theodora’s exultant laugh was an even sweeter song.
In spite of Timothy’s best efforts, he quickly missed one of the steps, unable to complete the pattern when he held Theodora. Serenity laughed and picked up the steps where she could. Soon they all were laughing, caring little about the pattern of the dance as they whirled about, to the little girl’s delight.
Serenity clapped as the music ended. The rest of the dance pattern had disintegrated into infectious laughter.
Timothy bowed deeply to Serenity, then to the others, all the while balancing Theodora in his arms. “I am honored to have had this opportunity to have a chance to dance with the two prettiest ladies at Cheyney Park tonight.”
“In all of England!” Theodora corrected with a touch of arrogance.
Serenity fought not to laugh, because the little girl was being serious. Holding out her hands, she took Theodora from Timothy and squeezed her. “Boasting is not a pretty trait, Theodora.”
“It cannot be a boast when it is the truth,” Timothy returned with a grin.
“You are spoiling her.”
“And you, I hope.” He put his arm around her waist as he walked with her back to where the earl was wiping a tear from the corner of his eye.
“Mistletoe!” cried Theodora suddenly, pointing toward the rafter over their heads. “You must be kissed, Timothy.”
“And will you kiss me?”
She shook her head. “That is Serenity’s job.”
“Her job?” Timothy gave her a false fearsome frown and heard Serenity’s sweet laugh. It sang through him like his favorite song. “Must you make the process sound so distasteful?”
“Kissing is kind of disgusting.” Her nose wrinkled.
“You think so?” He took Theodora out of Serenity’s arms and placed her on a nearby chair. Then he grasped Serenity’s hand and twirled her up against him. “Does this look disgusting?”
As he bent to capture Serenity’s mouth, he heard Theodora’s giggle in the moment before his pulse thundered in his head. The need to taste more than Serenity’s soft lips overmastered him as her fragrance washed over him. Not caring how many watched, he lured her tongue into a dance more intriguing than any they would share tonight. Her breath surged into his mouth as her fingers curled along his shoulders.
As he raised his head, he whispered, “The next waltz is for you and me alone, sweetheart.”
She nodded, her eyes ablaze with the longing that haunted him during his restless nights when he could not sleep for wanting her in his arms.
Timothy quickly realized that even a waltz was not private enough for the moment he wanted to have with Serenity. He was aware of every eye turned in their direction and the heads bending as he passed by with Serenity in his arms. He did not need to hear the comments, because he had no interest in what his grandfather’s guests were prattling about. He only wanted a moment alone with Serenity, a chance to ask her to reconsider and stay a while longer until they could sort out this jumble he had created out of the best of intentions.
As the dance ended and the orchestra began the music for a favorite north-country quadrille, he whirled her toward the door to the hall. Smiling, he said, “I am so glad you are here tonight, Serenity. I had not realized how desperately Cheyney Park needed a lovely hostess to bring such beauty and grace to an evening’s gathering.”
“Your aunt is here.”
“Aunt Ilse left Cheyney Park because she wanted the quiet life of a German princess, which she found less constraining than her life as the daughter of an earl.”
“Well, you have Melanda.”
He gave an emoted groan as he drew her out of the ballroom and into the room where the tree glowed with the soft light of candles that had almost burned out. He closed the door behind them. Sitting her on the settee by the window, he filled two cups with the mulled cider sitting on the hearth. The luscious scents of spices and evergreen drifted through the room, flavoring each breath with Christmas.
Serenity took a sip of the cider as Timothy sat on the floor beside the settee, his elbow resting on the cushion beside her skirt. She pulled her gaze from his hungry one to admire how the candles reflected in the windows. “Now I understand why Aunt Ilse was so eager to have this Christmas tree. The candles look like a sky filled with stars, and the one on the very top is the Bethlehem star.”
“You may be right.” He grimaced. “However, I must own that I think it is bizarre to have a dead tree set by the windows in a parlor.”
She slapped his shoulder lightly and laughed. “Mayhap your grandfather was not so wrong when he said you were getting as stuck in your ways as an old donkey.”
“He said that, did he?” He plucked her cup from her fingers.
“What are you doing?”
“This.” He hooked an arm around her waist and pulled her down to sit on his lap. Curling his fingers through her hair, he kissed her.
It was as if one of the candles had exploded within her, melting every bit of her resistance to him. She could not imagine anywhere else she would rather be than in his arms, his lips on hers.
Something clanged from somewhere beyond the walls.
“What is that?” She gasped, jumping up and looking around.
Timothy chuckled as he set himself on his feet. “The bell in the chapel. You will not notice it after the bell rings three or four hundred times.”
“Three hundred times? The bell is going to ring three hundred times?”
“Actually it will ring eighteen hundred and eighteen times, one knell for each year since Christmas was first celebrated. It used to be done in Dewsbury, west of here, but when it was stopped, the tradition somehow came to Cheyney Park. There is talk of returning it to Dewsbury.”
She put her hands over her ears as the clanging’s resonance grew in volume until it seemed as if she stood within the bell tower near the back wall. “That poor lad shall be exhausted long before he reaches eighteen hundred and eighteen peals.”
“All the young men in Cheyney Park take their turns. I used to look forward to doing it every year.”
“I am surprised any of you can hear.”
He drew her hands down and laced his fingers through them. “I can hear well enough to hear your heart speaking to mine, Serenity.”
“I have tried to silence it.”
“I am glad you have failed.”
The door opened, and Aunt Ilse smiled. “Timothy, your grandfather wishes to speak with you right away.”
“Certainly.” He motioned toward the tree. “It truly is lovely, Aunt Ilse.”
“I am glad you think so, too.” She whirled away in a cloud of pink and white.
Timothy sighed. “I should go and see what Grandfather needs.”
“I know.”
His fingers swept across her cheek, then tipped her lips toward his mouth. His kiss was swift, but told her how he longed for so much more. When he released her, her knees wobbled, and she took a steadying step.
Her foot hit his cup, and the mulled cider pooled on the carpet. “Go ahead,” she said with a grimace. “I will find someone to clean it up.”
“I shall be waiting for you to dance as the bells end their tolling.”
“Or before.”
He nodded, kissed her again with luscious fire, and went out of the room.
Serenity followed, pausing in the hallway
to signal to one of the maids. Telling the young woman what had happened, she grimaced again when she noticed the dampness in her left slipper. The cider must have seeped into it. She should change into other shoes.
She put her hand on the banister to rush up the stairs, not wanting to lose a minute of the evening’s excitement. Her name was called.
Turning, she saw a footman. “Yes?” she asked.
“This arrived just now, Miss Adams. The messenger said it was for you, and that it should be delivered without delay.”
“For me?” Her heart thudded with anticipation as she reached out to take the letter he held.
Could her sister and brother have found out where she was? She prayed they would never learn how she had begun to doubt their existence when Timothy’s solicitor had visited school after school and found no sign of any children who had an older sister matching her description who might be in service in Yorkshire.
“Thank you,” she managed to say as she went back to the room where the candles on Aunt Ilse’s tree were guttering out even as the tolling of the bells became more enthusiastic.
Opening the letter, she realized before she had read more than a few sentences that this letter had not been meant for her, but instead for Timothy. She should find him and give it to him immediately. She knew that, but she could not pull her gaze from the words.
She sat on the settee as she read, We have had no luck in finding the children you described, Lord Cheyney. The words pierced right through to her heart. Mayhap Timothy’s solicitor had not been able to find them because the children had been turned out already when the money she should have sent for their tuition failed to arrive. She did not want to believe that, but she was no longer certain of anything as she faced the past that she had put out of her mind when she was in Timothy’s arms.
Serenity took a deep breath to steady her fingers. She should give this letter to Timothy, but her curiosity kept her reading. Suddenly she gasped and stared at words she could not have guessed would be in this missive.
After investigating the information you sent me, my lord, I must say that I firmly believe your Miss Adams to be, in truth, Miss Helen Loughlin. Miss Loughlin has recently been reported as missing along with two servants. Although they apparently vanished earlier this month, word of that has only recently come to my ears and the ears of her family, for they have been in Town. Only when she did not arrive last week as planned did they learn of her disappearance. Miss Loughlin and her servants were en route to a masquerade rout at Hess Court, not much more than a hard day’s ride from Cheyney Park. At the time of her disappearance, it is believed that Miss Loughlin was dressed in the simple costume of an upper servant.
A Christmas Bride Page 18